


sip it slowly and pay attention

by louistomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Art Teacher Zayn Malik, Blowjobs, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Guidance Counselor Harry Styles, Harry/OMC - Freeform, M/M, No Angst, OT5 Friendship (One Direction), Teacher Liam Payne, Teacher Louis Tomlinson, but like not really, handjobs, he just goes on a few dates, like not even a drop, that's not a tag but i'm making it one!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23555062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistomlinsons/pseuds/louistomlinsons
Summary: “So I’ve got a guy I think you might like,” Louis says. He’s standing in the doorway of Harry’s office, drinking from what is most definitely Harry’s mug.“You’re going to set me up?” Harry asks, rightfully wary. He can’t imagine that this could end well.“Don’t look so afraid.” Louis takes a sip from his mug, wincing as it burns him. Harry rolls his eyes. He’s always warning Louis to be more patient before he loses all his taste buds. “I know you better than anyone else. Who better to set you up on dates than me?”“I guess you’re right,” Harry says, still slightly hesitant.It’s not that he doesn’t trust Louis, but. He doesn’t trust Louis’ taste. Louis has about the same track record with men that Harry does, if not quite as extensive.or, harry is a guidance counselor, louis is an english teacher, and harry just wants to go on one successful date
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 27
Kudos: 590





	sip it slowly and pay attention

**Author's Note:**

> this was like. slightly inspired by the fact that two people i have dated are now married  
> enjoy this almost 13k long thing of my rambling!

“Do you think I’m just unlovable?”

Harry throws himself face first onto the couch the moment he walks through the door, sighing heavily into the throw pillows. At the time he bought them, he had loved them. Now they just make him want to rip his hair out. They all have cute expressions about love on stitched onto the fabric. He has a (bad) habit of buying a new one every time he gets into a relationship. 

“I love you, so I’m going to with no,” Liam answers, not even looking up from the book he’s buried his nose into. He’s curled into the only armchair in the room, feet tucked underneath him. He looks cozy and cuddly and it’s times like these that Harry wishes he could just force himself to fall in love with Liam. 

“It’s not the same kind of love, though,” Harry says, rolling over onto his back. He clutches one of the smaller pillows to his chest, rubbing his face against the scratchy fabric. “You don’t want to put a baby in me.”

Liam chuckles. “No, I don’t think I want to put a baby in you.”

Harry doesn’t even bother replying, just sighing deeply and holding the pillow tighter. Maybe Liam will let him sleep in his bed tonight. Maybe if he’s feeling particularly generous, he’ll let Harry be the little spoon. 

“Stop pouting and scooch over, I need a cuddle,” Liam says. Harry knows he’s only saying it because _Harry_ is the one who needs a cuddle, which makes him appreciate Liam even more. 

“This couch isn’t big enough.” But Harry rolls only his side anyway, letting Liam slip in behind him and slide an arm around his waist. This is far too normal of an occurrence, which only serves to make Harry want to cry even more. 

He’s not even sad about the breakup. (Mostly).

“Do you want to talk about it?” Liam asks, rubbing a thumb over Harry’s hip. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s somewhere different with someone who isn’t Liam. That it’s a few years down the line, he’s put his kid to bed, and he’s getting a relaxing cuddle before bed with his husband. Liam’s voice kind of ruins the daydream, though.

“What’s there to talk about? He realized he wanted something serious,” Harry says. “Before you say anything - yes, that _would_ be a good thing. If he wanted the serious thing with me. He said he took a deep, long look into himself and realized that I wasn’t the one for him.”

“How long were you dating this one?”

“Only five months, at least.” 

Liam hums, air blowing against the skin of Harry’s neck. “One of the shorter relationships you’ve had.”

“He wasn’t that interesting, anyway.” He rolls out of Liam’s arms, planting his feet on the ground and standing up. He extends his hand toward Liam, helping him from the couch. “Time for bed, lover.”

“You’re not sleeping with me tonight,” Liam says. Laughing, Harry takes off down the hallway towards Liam’s room. “Harry, I’m serious! Sleep in your own bed tonight! We can’t keep doing this!”

Harry’s already under the covers by the time Liam reaches his room. Sighing, he doesn’t bother trying to kick Harry out, and instead climbs under the blankets and takes his position as the big spoon.

~*~

“Heard about the breakup.” Louis’ voice shakes Harry from the trance he had fallen under, reading through college essays some of the seniors asked him to look over. Every single one is almost identical, just variations of each other. He has no idea how people who worked in college admissions read _thousands_ of these.

He seats himself in the raggedy chair across from Harry’s desk. It reminds him that maybe he should put in a request for a new one - this one looks pretty gross by this point, tearing in most places and faded to a grey color where it used to be a baby blue beforehand. It makes his office look less welcoming than he would like it to be.

“Did Liam tell you?” Harry asks, pushing aside the stacks of essays. The words are starting to blur together, anyway. It’s probably for the best that he takes a break.

“Niall.” Louis tucks his feet underneath him. “I think Zayn told him. And I would assume that Liam told Zayn.”

“Nothing’s ever a secret with you guys, is it?”

“Nope.” Louis pops the ‘p’ sound and gives a cheeky smile. “Do you need anything?”

“I think I’m good, thanks.” Harry appreciates his friends’ concern, but they seem to think he’s more fragile than he actually is. It wasn’t that serious of a relationship. Or serious at all. They mostly just had sex and Harry didn’t even stay the night that often. Maybe it wasn’t even a relationship, now that he looks back on it.

Louis looks like he doesn’t quite believe Harry, but doesn’t push the issue. “Want to come over and get wine drunk at my place tonight?”

“It’s Monday.”

Louis just raises one eyebrow, as if to say _‘your point?’_

With a sigh, Harry agrees. “Fine. I will come over and get drunk at your place. Will Niall be there? Should I invite anyone else?”

“No, Niall’s working an overnight shift tonight,” Louis answers. He grabs the cup of rubber bands from the desk, and Harry can already see where this is going. “Don’t bother inviting the lovebirds. They’re annoying and they always get so horny when they drink wine.”

A rubber band hits Harry on the cheek.

“You get horny too when you drink wine,” he points out. “You just don’t have anyone to be horny with - that’s what makes you so mad.”

“Give the man a prize!” Another rubber band hits him in the face.

“You’re a menace,” Harry says, laughing quietly. It’s almost impossible to be in a bad mood when he’s around Louis. “Don’t you have a class to be teaching?”

“Not until the next period,” Louis says. “So I’ve got to be going in, like, five minutes. I’m going to spend those next five minutes flicking every single one of your rubber bands at your face and leaving you to clean them up.”

“I wonder how you’re single sometimes.” Harry accepts his fate and sits back, letting Louis follow through on his promise. He’s surprisingly accurate, hitting the same spot on Harry’s cheek almost every time. When the bell rings for the next period, he’s pretty sure there’s a red mark on his face.

Louis leaves, but not before patting Harry’s slightly stinging cheek and pressing a kiss into his hair. For all the trouble Louis is, he’s Harry’s best friend by a long stretch. The other boys are fun, but Louis understands him in a way he hasn’t had with anyone else. Their energies bounce off each other perfectly, and Louis always knows what to do in every situation. He’s the best at handling Harry’s “breakups.” Whether they’re serious - like when Sam dumped him after two and a half years - or if they’re more casual like this one where Harry doesn’t even know if they were exclusive.

Louis is always there for him, either holding a cup of tea or a glass of wine, prepared to offer his shoulder for crying and his ear for listening.

Knowing he gets to hang out one-on-one with Louis is what gets Harry through the rest of the school day. He has not one, but two, cases where he has to talk to a student about their parent’s divorce. Those are always rough, but somehow still less painful than critiquing college essays. 

He runs home to change beforehand, slipping into his favorite black sweatpants and what he thinks is Louis’ white t-shirt. He’s running out the door when Liam is coming home, still dressed in his teaching clothes.

“Hot date?” he asks, dropping his bag onto their dining table. They don’t have a specified dining room, more of an awkward space between the kitchen and living room, so they’d gone and put a table in the area, but they don’t even have chairs for it. Its’ sole purpose is for them to dump their shit on it when they get home every night. As a result, it’s a cluttered mess and Harry’s mom fusses over it every time she visits.

“Not quite,” Harry answers. He bends over to slip on his shoes and ties them before standing back up, back popping, a sign that he’s not quite as young as he used to be. “Just over to Louis’.”

Liam hums, obviously biting back a comment. His mouth moves like it’s going to form words, but he thinks better of it.

“Have fun, I guess.” He reaches over and flicks Harry’s nose before retreating to his room.

The walk to Louis’ place is quick. It’s only a few blocks away, which Harry is frequently thankful for. He enters the gate code and lets himself up, not even bothering to send Louis a text that he’s arrived. The gate clunks loudly behind him as it swings shut.

Like usual, the elevator is out of service. The signs been on the doors for months now, and by this point Harry is sure it’s going to stay there. He takes the stairs two at a time up to the third floor, sending his usual prayer to the skies that Louis doesn’t live on the top floor.

Louis’ apartment is at the end of the hallway, soft music coming from underneath his door. Harry gave him a new bluetooth speaker for Christmas, and he’s been taking advantage of it every chance he gets. Harry recognizes the music as their shared playlist (the name changes daily. The last time Harry checked, Louis had changed it to ‘he had a dumb name anyway (was it roger? idc)’. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Harry calls when he swings open the door. He kicks off his shoes in the doorway, watching them land haphazardly in a pile of Louis and Niall’s shoes. He’s pretty sure the pile grows every time he comes over. Maybe he should buy them a shoe rack. 

“In the kitchen, lover.” 

Louis’ voice carries down the hallway, just barely louder than the soft music. The music grows louder the further down the hall that Harry walks, sidestepping the creaky floor boards. When he reaches the kitchen, he sees Louis standing at the stove with a spatula in one hand and a whisk in the other.

“Babe, what are you doing?” Harry asks, almost afraid of the answer.

“I thought I would cook for you, but.” Louis shrugs. “I haven’t started.”

Harry sighs in relief. “Oh thank god. Put down the spatula, please? And maybe the whisk?”

Louis scoffs but puts down them both onto the counter. He hadn’t even turned on the oven yet.

“I’m not that bad of a cook.”

“No, babe, of course not.” Harry crosses the room and rubs Louis’ back soothingly. “Want to order Chinese?”

He nods his head, leaning into Harry’s hand. “You call and I’ll pour us some wine?”

“Deal.”

Harry looks up the number to their favorite Chinese restaurant, listening to the ringing as he watches Louis reach on to his tip toes for the wine glasses. Harry wonders if he’ll ever learn his lesson and set them on a lower shelf, or if he’s too stubborn for that.

A woman picks up on the other line, greeting him by name. They order from the place at least once a week, whether it be for all five of them or just for he and Louis.

“My favorite customer!” comes the cheerful voice at the other end of the line. “How many are we ordering for today?”

Harry chuckles quietly. All he has to do is say whether he’s ordering for the group or just for him and Louis, and she’ll know exactly what they want. Maybe he should be concerned that they eat there too often, but the food is just too good to go anywhere else.

“Just two of us today,” he answers. He listens to the clicking of something in the background as she inputs their order.

“Ah, you and the boyfriend. Date night?”

He’d given up trying to correct her years ago. He wonders if she’ll start asking when he’s going to propose soon.

“Yes, date night,” he says with a laugh. “How long do you think it’ll be?”

“Fifteen minutes,” she says. “See you soon.”

She hangs up without waiting for his response.

The place is just on the corner, and Harry used to run down and pick it up, but they started delivering it after about a year. They just swing by on their way to other deliveries. Harry had offered to pay a delivery fee, but they had declined, so he always makes sure to tip extra.

Louis wanders into the living room, holding two glasses. He hands the glass of red wine to Harry, keeping the white wine for himself. He often wonders why Louis even bothers keeping red wine in the apartment if Harry’s the only person who drinks it. Louis prefers white wine, Niall drinks beer, Liam doesn’t drink, and Zayn always brings his own.

“Did she say how long it’s going to be?” Louis asks, settling himself down onto the couch. He tucks his feet up under himself and takes a sip of wine.

“Fifteen minutes,” Harry answers. He settles down on the couch beside Louis, throwing an arm around his body and pulling him close. They sit like that until there’s a knock on the door, signalling the arrival of their food. 

Harry unwraps himself from around Louis, setting his wine glass onto the coffee table and answering the door. The same delivery man as always is standing there holding the bag of their food, shit-eating grin on his face. Out of all the workers at the restaurant, he probably teases Harry and Louis the most about their relationship.

“Proposing tonight?” he jokes, wicked glint in his eyes.

“Not tonight,” Harry answers easily. “You’ll get the first wedding invitation though, when it finally happens. I’ll be sure of it.”

Harry pays him and says a few more words before he’s on his way, the door shutting quietly behind him. 

The food smells delicious, as always, causing his stomach to grumble loudly as Harry makes his way back to the living room. Louis has grabbed plates and napkins for them, as well as refilling both of their glasses.

Harry takes a moment to look at it from an outside perspective, his relationship with Louis. It does appear romantic in nature, the way they cuddle and spend their free time together. How domestic they are with each other. People have made comments that sometimes their overall interactions are too intimate to bear witness to.

So yeah, Harry can see it. He gets why people assume. But he always brushes the comments and knowing glances off, stating he and Louis are more of “platonic soulmates” than anything else. Not everything needs to be romantic.

“Smells fucking delicious,” Louis says, reaching to grab the bag. He sets it down on the coffee table and begins separating out their food, stealing a few bites of Harry’s food for himself, like he always does. “You better dig in before I eat all of yours too.”

Harry listens because he knows Louis isn’t kidding. There have been too many nights when they had to make a second run for food after Louis had eaten all of his as well. They eat in silence, but Harry finds comfort in the sounds of Louis’ chewing. He’s not a graceful eater - neither of them are - but there’s something familiar and easy about the way he eats.

“Are you staying the night?” Louis asks once they’re both finished. Of course, he’d eaten Harry’s leftovers. He never goes home with anything to stick in the fridge and eat the next day. 

“Did you wash the clothes I left here last time?” Harry questions, voice already deepening from drowsiness. The combination of wine and food in his stomach has him barely able to keep his eyes open.

“Of course, babe,” Louis says, easily. Like it’s the obvious answer.

“Then, yes.”

He reaches over then, the few inches that there are between them, and starts scratching at the sensitive spot behind Harry’s ear. Harry can tell he’s not going to be awake much longer if he keeps this up, eyes already feeling too heavy to keep open.

“C’mon, love, let’s get you to bed.”

Louis wraps an arm around Harry’s middle and they stumble down the hallway, half drunk and supporting one another. This feels right, feels like home. Harry wonders when he’ll find someone who treats him as well as Louis does. Not for the first time, he finds himself thinking life would just be easier if he and Louis were in love with each other.

He quickly brushes that thought from his mind as they go through their night routine. A spare bottle of all of Harry’s favorite products are kept in Louis and Niall’s shared bathroom, from his favorite shampoo to his face wash to his preferred brand of toothpaste. At this point, his products end up on their shopping list. On top of that, every three months, Harry finds his toothbrush replaced. 

“Do you mind waking up a bit earlier tomorrow?” Louis asks around a mouthful of his toothbrush. There’s white foam all around his lips, but Harry doesn’t find it gross. More endearing, if anything. “I told a student she could come in early for some extra help on a college essay.”

Harry spits in the sink and wipes his mouth. “Not more college essays,” he groans. 

Louis chuckles and sets both of their toothbrushes back into the holder. He pads back out into the hallway, feet sticking to the hardwood as he walks back toward his bedroom. Harry follows, making sure to turn off the lights behind him. Louis never remembers, and without Harry around, his electric bill would probably be through the roof.

“I’m setting the alarm for like thirty minutes earlier,” Louis says, setting his phone on the side table. He’s already slid under the covers, leaning back against the headboard that he and Harry spent almost an entire day putting together. They hadn’t been able to find the page with English instructions on them until they were almost all the way done.

“Mmkay,” Harry hums. He slides into his designated side of the bed. 

He feels Louis’ arms wrap around his middle from behind. It’s almost scary, how natural and easy this feels. They’re basically a married couple. Maybe that’s the reason Harry has such bad luck in the dating scene - his expectations are too high because of Louis. He should probably lower them, he thinks.

As Louis cuddles closer to him, burying his nose within Harry’s hair, he decides maybe not. He wouldn’t want to lower his standards and then give this up for the rest of his life.

~*~

“So I’ve got a guy I think you might like,” Louis says. He’s standing in the doorway of Harry’s office, drinking from what is most definitely Harry’s mug. 

“You’re going to set me up?” Harry asks, rightfully wary. He can’t imagine that this could end well.

“Don’t look so afraid.” Louis takes a sip from his mug, wincing as it burns him. Harry rolls his eyes. He’s always warning Louis to be more patient before he loses all his taste buds. “I know you better than anyone else. Who better to set you up on dates than me?”

“I guess you’re right,” Harry says, still slightly hesitant. 

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Louis, but. He doesn’t trust Louis’ _taste_. Louis has about the same track record with men that Harry does, if not quite as extensive.

“You’re free Friday, right?”

“You know I am,” Harry sighs. 

“Perfect, so is he.” Louis tries to take another sip of his coffee. He hisses, pulling the mug away from him like it’s offensive. “Why does it take so fucking long for coffee to cool down?”

“You should try putting an ice cube in it,” Harry suggests. “What’s this guy’s name?”

He has paperwork he should be doing. They’ve got three new students starting before the end of the week, and he should definitely be making sure all of it is set to go before they get here, but he’s much more interested in learning about the guy Louis thinks is so perfect for him.

“Ben.” Louis takes a third drink from his mug, and this time he manages to not make a face so it must have cooled down at least a little. “I met him at that coffee shop we like so much, down the street from your place. Like a few weeks ago while I was getting us tea. You remember?”

“You’re always getting us tea from there,” Harry says. “So I’m not sure if I’m supposed to remember the exact date, but I don’t.”

Louis waves a hand dismissively. “Whatever. He works there, I guess.”

“You guess?”

Louis ignores him.

“He’s free Friday night and I already told him you’d meet him at that little Italian place you love so much. He thinks you’re hot and he’s excited to meet you.”

“You showed him my picture?” Harry pulls his eyebrows together. “I don’t think I like the idea of you setting me up.”

“Tough titties, I guess,” Louis says with a shrug. He slurps his coffee in the way he knows annoys Harry to no end. “I’ll text over his number to you.”

~*~

Friday comes before Harry realizes it, busy with making sure the school doesn’t burn down. It’s near the end of the semester, so all the students are trying to make sure their schedules are perfect for when they come back from break, but mostly it’s just giving Harry a headache. He’s had to explain to several students that they were slow on turning in their schedules, so no, they cannot be in Mr. Malik’s art class. They will have to take Mr. Stevenson’s.

He gets a lot of eyerolls. 

“Excited for your date tonight, Harold?”

Louis’ voice startles him, making him scratch his pen all the way across the paper he had been filling out. The blue ink seems to be mocking him, this paper the only thing separating him from his weekend.

“Jesus,” he says, glancing up and spotting Louis leaning against the door frame. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

“I don’t think walking into a door that’s _in front of you_ is considered sneaking up on you,” Louis laughs. “You need to hurry up and get out of here. I know it takes you forever to get ready. I told Ben you’d meet him for drinks at seven.”

It’s only three-thirty now, Harry notes as he glances at the clock. He has plenty of time.

He signs his name across the bottom of the papers that need his signature and decides he’s done for the week. Everything else will just have to wait for Monday morning. 

“And I want you to come over to my place first so I can approve your outfit,” Louis adds. “I don’t want you going out in something hideous and ruining your chances before they even begin.”

“I don’t own anything hideous,” Harry says defensively.

Louis hums. “Yeah, okay. Just go home and get ready and then come over to my place. I’ll even give you a pep talk.”

“Get out of my office,” Harry says, but he’s laughing. 

“See you tonight, handsome!”

Louis was right. Harry takes forever to get ready. He has to style his hair different from how he wears it at school - messier and more windblown than his normal over-styled hair. It took him an hour alone just to choose his outfit. Every time he put something on, he worried it’d be too over the top for a first date, and Louis was right. He doesn’t want to scare Ben away before they even got a chance.

He finally settles on a pink blouse with white polka dots and dark, navy jeans. He slips on his favorite worn boots, wincing as he realizes it might be time for a new pair. The soles are starting to come apart from the rest of the shoe, and sooner or later he’ll be better off walking around barefoot.

Shooting Louis a text that he’s on his way, he grabs his keys and heads out the door. If he doesn’t leave now, he’ll never make it. He’s pushing his luck just by stopping by Louis’, and he might even end up being a few minutes late. Maybe Ben won’t mind him being fashionably late.

The weather outside is nice enough. Maybe he should have grabbed a jacket before leaving, but he doesn’t have the time to go back and grab one. He’ll live with a few goosebumps.

He types in the code and lets himself into Louis’ building, climbing the stairs and playing with his hair. At this rate, he’s going to mess up all the hard work he put into it. He opens the door to Louis’ apartment and he’s hit with the smell of cinnamon.

“What are you cooking, Lou?” he calls as he walks down the hallway. “Smells delicious.”

Louis pokes his head around the corner, wicked grin on his face. “It’s a candle.”

“I knew it was too good to be true,” Harry teases. “You’ve never successfully cooked anything ever.”

“Okay just because I don’t cook for you doesn’t mean I can’t cook.” Louis doesn’t look all too offended, though, shrugging and disappearing around the corner again. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it!” 

Harry follows him down the hallway, the smell of cinnamon almost overpowering the closer he gets to the candle. The apartment’s cleaner than usual, not to say that Louis’ ever all that messy, and Harry looks around suspiciously.

“Are you having a guy over?”

“No.” Louis looks too guilty to be telling the truth.

“I think you dusted your ceiling fan for the first time since I’ve known you.”

Louis sighs, heavily and dramatic, and throws himself into the large armchair in the corner of the room. “I’m having the lads over. I didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“You cleaned for the lads?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t clean for _me_.” Harry crosses his arms over his chest - he still doesn’t believe Louis’ story.

“Well. You’re here every day.” Louis shrugs. “That would just get tedious.”

“I absolutely cannot stand you.” But he’s laughing and crossing the room to collapse on top of Louis in the armchair. It’s definitely not meant for more than one person, but Harry’s always ignored personal space.

“Aren’t you going to be late for your date?” Louis asks, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair and messing up all the work he put into it. “I approve of the outfit, by the way.”

“That’s all I needed, love.” Harry sighs and pushes himself from the arm chair, pressing one last kiss to Louis’ forehead and promising to text afterwards. 

The date is, in Harry’s opinion, going terribly. 

“What do you think I did wrong?” Ben asks, voice barely below a wail. “All I did was love him the best I could. Do you think that wasn’t enough?”

He’s been crying all night about his ex-boyfriend, and Harry isn’t sure what exactly he’s supposed to do in this situation. So far, he’s been able to stay mostly quiet and not give many responses because Ben doesn’t exactly shut up long enough for Harry to get a word in.

“Um-”

“And he said that I just didn’t put in enough effort, but that can’t be true. This was the most effort I’ve _ever_ put into a relationship.”

Ben is crying now.

Harry _really_ has no idea what to do, but now that Ben’s crying, he feels like he needs to feel the silence. Also, most of the other restaurant-goers are staring at them. They probably think Harry’s breaking up with him.

“Um, well. Ben.” Harry takes a deep breath and thinks about what to say. What would he say to one of his students in this situation? “I think communication might have been your issue then. You felt like you were giving it your all, but he felt like you weren’t trying. Maybe the things you were giving weren’t quite the things he needed. You should try calling him and finding out what you can change in your behavior and see if that’s doable for you.”

Maybe it’s a bit more mature advice than he’d give a fifteen year old girl crying over her stoner boyfriend, but he thinks it’s alright enough. Ben seems to think so, too, sniffling and sitting up a little straighter in his seat. 

“You think that would work?” he asks.

“Well, I don’t really want to be held accountable when it doesn’t work but-”

Ben cuts him off by jumping up from the table. “I’m going to call him right now. Thanks for much, Henry!”

He runs out the door and Harry is the one looking like he just got dumped.

Harry knows the only way to get the bad taste of the date out of his mouth is to head over to Louis’. He doesn’t even bother texting, just walks straight there and wishes again that he had brought a jacket. He passes plenty of couples holding hands as they walk down the street, and he does his best not to feel bitter.

But.

He can’t help it.

He wants what they have. He’s almost thirty and he feels like he should be closer to settling down then he is. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing wrong. What about him makes guys realize they want to settle down with someone _else_?

The door is unlocked when Harry reaches Louis’ place. The smell of cinnamon still lingers in the air and he takes a big whiff. Something about this feels strangely domestic, like coming home after a long day of work to his husband and their nice smelling home and getting to decompress. 

The lights in the hallway are off, so Harry makes his way towards the living room and kitchen area by muscle memory alone. He only stubs his toe once. 

Only one lamp is on in the living room, dimly lighting the area. There’s no sign of Louis anywhere, but he wouldn’t have just left his door unlocked for anyone to come in as they please. Maybe Niall left it unlocked, or Louis left it open because Niall was supposed to be coming home soon.

He continues his walk down the hallway, passing by Niall’s closed door. He can hear soft music come from the other side, so at least he knows someone is home. Louis’ room is the one at the furthest end of the hallway, and the door is opened just a crack, but no light comes through. 

Harry pokes his head inside and easily sees Louis’ body forming a lump underneath the covers. He’s already snoring slightly, despite it only being nine-thirty. Must have been a wild night with the guys, Harry thinks.

He should turn around and leave. He should call tomorrow and they can grab coffee or something. He shouldn’t kick off his skinny jeans and climb into the empty side of the bed. He shouldn’t pull Louis closer for a cuddle and his chest shouldn’t feel so warm when Louis sighs.

Harry’s never been too good at being a rule follower.

When Harry wakes up, it’s to Louis shoving him out of the bed and onto the floor.

The cold hardwood wakes him instantly and he groans in pain, having hit his elbow on the tumble downwards. He opens his eyes and sees Louis standing over him, hands on his hip and looking angry.

“You should not be in _my_ bed, Harold,” he says. “You should be in _Ben’s_ bed.”

“Ben is probably in his ex-boyfriend’s bed.” 

Harry rubs at the back of his head before attempting to stand. He winces as he hears his back pop. Maybe he should start seeing a chiropractor. 

Louis’ eyes soften sympathetically. “His ex-boyfriend’s bed?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “He’s just like every other guy I’ve ever dated. He realized he didn’t want me. He wanted something serious with someone else. Lou, I don’t get what’s so wrong with me. Why don’t people see anything serious with me?”

“I see something serious with you,” Louis says. Harry’s just about to say thank you, but then he continues, “Something seriously wrong with you.” 

Harry snorts. “You’re so immature. You know, if I’m not married by forty, I’m marrying you.”

“What if _I’m_ married?” Louis asks, affronted. 

“You’re not getting married if I’m not getting married.”

Harry’s stomach growls, and he doesn’t stick around to listen to Louis’ whining. He stumbles down the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, and tries to remember what’s in Louis’ fridge. He can’t remember if they bought eggs on their last trip to the grocery store or not. He knows they bought milk and definitely bacon, so he can’t imagine they would have forgotten to buy eggs but-

They forgot to buy eggs. 

Right in the spot where the carton normally sits is an empty space. How is Harry supposed to make breakfast without eggs? 

“Looks like we’re going to that diner down the block,” Louis says, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist. He rests his head on Harry’s shoulder and sighs. “That’s okay. Their eggs are better than yours anyway.”

“Have you ever said a sentence to me that wasn’t immediately followed by an insult?” Harry asks, but he’s joking. Louis has never said anything over the line. In fact, Louis’ the one who’s the most there to make him feel better about himself. The one to quite literally pick him up off the floor after his date runs out in the middle of it and goes home to his ex-boyfriend.

“Go shower and get dressed,” Louis says. He presses a kiss to Harry’s clothed shoulder before unwrapping his arms from Harry’s waist. “You smell.”

The diner is almost empty when they walk in. It’s almost always empty or near-empty every time they come by. Sometimes, Harry takes a moment and wonders how they stay in business, and then always comes to the conclusion that it’s magic. 

The emptiness adds to the atmosphere of the diner. It’s quiet, with pink vinyl booths, and Harry knows every worker by name. Even the grill cooks, off in the back. They’ve been coming here that long.

The place only holds six booths and four stools at a counter. Harry’s never seen a time where even half of the booths and stools were filled. It’s a hole-in-the-wall place, owned by the cutest couple in their fifties. Harry’s met both of their daughters, time and time again, who are just as pleasant as their parents. He couldn’t imagine going anywhere else to get breakfast, at this point. It would feel like cheating.

“Ah, my two favorite guests!”

Their server’s voice carries through the small space. At any given time, there’s only one server in the place, but three work there in total. Today, it’s Shawn, a bright-eyed student working his way through school.

Harry and Louis take a seat at their favorite booth, the one at the end, tucked in the corner and surrounded by windows. The view isn’t spectacular, just the bustling sidewalk as people make their way around the city after a late night out, but they like to people watch. One of Harry’s favorite things is the voices Louis makes up for people as he maps out their life stories.

“I know you guys want some coffee,” Shawn says, using the pot in his hand to fill up their cups. “Happy Saturday, and all that. You guys want the usual?”

“The usual is fine for me, thanks,” Harry says. He hasn’t opened a menu here in years. He wonders if they ever change it up, or if it’s stayed the same just as long. 

“Me too.” Louis always opens the menu, but doesn’t even bother reading past the first page. It’s always the same for him - eggs sunny side up, wheat toast, and a side of crispy bacon. It’s the same as when Harry cooks him breakfast, as well.

Shawn crosses the small diner in three steps. Harry can hear the sizzle of bacon hitting the grill and the cooks curse as he drops one of the eggs on to the ground. All of it is familiar and comforting, much like the man sitting across from him. 

“So where do you think the date went wrong?” Louis asks. He rips open two sugar packets and dumps one into his coffee and another into Harry’s mug. He does the same with the small creamer packets on the table. “Do you think your hair was too messy? Was the outfit too loud?”

“My outfit was not too loud,” Harry snorts. He dips a spoon into the coffee and twirls the liquid, watching is change from the black color to a dark brown. “It could have been much louder.”

“Maybe he thought you smelled.”

“I didn’t smell, either.”

Louis shrugs before taking a sip from his own mug. He hisses as the coffee burns his tongue. He does it every time, but he never learns. “Maybe you guys just connected so poorly he realized how well he connected with his ex-boyfriend.”

“Probably.” Harry sighs and sets down his own mug without sipping from it. “I’m getting too old. I’m going to die alone with no children. Just me and my seven cats.”

“When do you plan on adopting these seven cats?”

“All at once the day I turn forty,” he says. “And they’ll all be named Dust Bunny.”

“That’s alarming,” Louis chuckles. He’s looking wistfully at his cup of coffee, and Harry knows he’s about to go in for another scalding sip. “You’ll have to go to separate shelters. There’s no way one shelter will let you adopt seven cats in one day.”

“Can we move on past the cats?”

“No,” Louis deadpans. He bites at his lip and looks past Harry, lost in a thought. Harry can see the moment he comes back to reality, eyes focusing in on Harry’s and head shaking slightly, like he has to shake himself out of his thoughts and daydreams. “I have someone else I can set you up with.”

Harry wants to say no. He wants to tell Louis to fuck off and that he can handle his own love life (even though evidence suggests otherwise). 

Instead, he asks, “What’s his name?”

~*~

Harry has been on six dates in two weeks. Each one has been more disasterous than the last - the last one ended with his date running out the door the moment the man he was _actually_ into called. 

Harry has given two of them advice on how to win their ex-boyfriends back, been stood up once, and run out on three times. Two of the three who ran out on him at least had the decency to come up with fake excuses, but the third didn’t even bother. Just pretended to look sorry as he said, “ _Ex-boyfriend_ ,” and then walked out the front entrance of the bar, phone pressed to his ear.

“And you know the worst part?” Harry says to Liam. Liam scratches a hand through his hair sympathetically, urging him to continue on with his pity party. 

“What’s the worst part, bub?”

“I always get stuck with the bill.” 

He can’t even help the hot tears that come forward to his eyes, blinking them away and feeling as they cool down the sides of his cheeks. He watches one darken Liam’s shirt out of the corner of his eye. Liam doesn’t offer up any advice, just continues to play with his hair and give comfort the only way he knows how. 

“You can’t afford that on your teacher’s salary.”

Harry jerks at the familiar voice, almost knocking himself in the head with Liam’s elbow. Standing in the doorway is Niall, followed closely by Louis and Zayn, each of them holding both a case of beer and a bottle of wine.

“We figured you could use a night with the boys and lots of alcohol,” Niall adds. “And I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

Harry pushes himself from the couch, pity party momentarily interrupted, and allows himself to be engulfed in hugs from his best friends. 

The newcomers break off to drop their alcohol off in the fridge, and Harry collapses back onto the couch. Liam tries to divert his pitying glance elsewhere, which Harry appreciates. 

Louis climbs into Harry’s lap, wrapping them both in a blanket he picked up off the back of the couch. Harry settles his arms naturally around Louis’ waist and pulls him closer. Something about having Louis in such close proximity immediately calms him down. He doesn’t even make a comment about Harry sniffing his hair (Louis’ shampoo is his favorite scent in the whole world, a mix of sweet and smokey and something that reminds him of home).

“Haz,” Louis whispers into his neck, just quiet enough so the others can’t eavesdrop. “I’m sorry. Maybe you’ll find someone when you’re not looking. You’re not unlovable, I swear.”

Niall and Zayn pile on to the loveseat opposite the couch, and one of them drops an extra beer on to the coffee table. It’s Harry’s favorite, one of the fruitier beers that everyone claims ‘isn’t real beer.’ 

“Okay, well, my stint on night shifts is over,” Niall declares. “And I’m back to as normal of a schedule as an emergency room nurse can have.”

Zayn wrinkles his nose before taking a sip from his own drink. “Not sure why anyone would ever want a job where they can’t pick their own schedule.”

“Not all of us have, like, talent,” Niall says. “Some of us can’t draw.”

“You can draw blood,” Harry jokes. It falls flat, because of course it does, and only Louis lets out a pitying snort. 

“I think awful jokes like that are why none of these guys love you,” Niall teases.

“Don’t listen to them, Haz.” Louis tucks himself closer into Harry’s neck. He’s so close his breath is warm against Harry’s skin, warming him up and making him sleepy. “I love your horrendous jokes. I would be happy to marry you.”

Harry ignores the pointed looks the other three guys give each other across the room. He knows what they think about him and Louis.

He knows what _everyone_ thinks about him and Louis.

And he’s thought about it. He’s taken late nights to think about it. He’s pondered it over six glasses of wine, he’s thought about it after two blunts, and he’s dreamed about it while sober. He’s hit with daydreams of him and Louis while they’re grocery shopping, getting breakfast at their favorite diner, and even right now - with Louis sitting on his lap, already having fallen asleep for the night.

But that doesn’t mean Louis thinks about it.

As much as Harry and Louis share everything with each other, this is one thing that Harry has tried his best to keep to himself. He’s almost positive Louis doesn’t feel the same way.

“Hi,” Harry says, sitting down at the table. His glass is already filled with water and a nervous looking brunette man is sitting opposite of him. “James?”

The man nods. His glasses slip down his nose, and he doesn’t bother pushing them back into place. For some reason, this bothers Harry.

“I assume you’re Harry,” he says. “It’s so nice to meet you. Louis raves about you all the time during our Zumba class. I always thought you were, like, his husband or something. But then he came up to me after hearing I just got out of a relationship and said you’d be perfect for me.” 

“Are you sure you’re ready to move on?” Harry asks. Better to ask this now, before anyone gets hrut. He doesn’t even care if it’s not tactful at this point.

“Ah, Louis mentioned you’re a counsellor.” James nods, like it all makes sense now. Harry notices that he doesn’t _answer the question_.

“Just a guidance counsellor,” Harry clarifies. “I mostly help students graduate on time and that they have all the things they need to apply to college or join the working world.”

“Humble, too.” James nods again. “I get why you and Louis get along so well. Is there any reason you two _aren’t_ an item?”

Harry wants to answer. He wants to say that it could ruin their friendship, Louis doesn’t feel the same, etc. He wants to list all the cliché reasons that everybody gives when they’re in love with their best friends. 

He never gets a chance.

“James!”

A red-headed man comes barreling through the door, sweaty and out of breath, on a path straight for their table. Harry already has a sense that he knows where this is going. Maybe he should head out, he thinks, before the pitying looks start pouring in. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get a chance to make his exit because the man has reached their table, and now all eyes are on the trio.

“James,” the man pants. “I shouldn’t have told you to leave.”

“Chris,” James sighs dreamily. “I shouldn’t have left.”

Chris (at least Harry assumes that’s the man standing in front of him), pulls out a box from his jacket pocket. Harry did not expect for this turn, and he wishes the floor would open into a black hole and suck him in so he doesn’t have to witness this. This is by far the worst out of all the disastrous dates Louis has set him up on. 

“James.” Chris takes a deep breath and falls to one knee. “I bought this six months ago. I’ve been holding on for the right moment, and I know that moment is right now.”

“Are you sure _right now_ -” Chris keeps talking right over Harry.

“I don’t want to spend my life with anyone else,” he says. “You’re it for me. And if it takes this curly-haired man to make me realize it, then so be it.” Chris flips open the ring box, and (shocker) there’s a gorgeous diamond ring sitting inside. James automatically holds out his left hand, and Chris slips the ring on.

Not very romantic, in Harry’s opinion. Not exactly how he wants to be proposed to.

The dining room starts clapping, hesitant and confused, and Harry takes that as his cue to exit. He doesn’t need to see any more of this. 

What he really needs to do is let Louis know that he’s not allowed to set up any more blind dates for him. 

“And he just-” Liam has to stop himself to fight back his laughter. “He proposed? In the middle of your date?”

“Not really the middle,” Harry says. “More like. The beginning.”

“Imagine having to tell your future children that story.”

Harry hums in agreement. “Louis has shit taste.”

“You both do,” Liam says. “But like. Selectively shit taste.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asks. He rests his head against Liam’s shoulder. A glass of wine in, he’s already feeling a little sad about the inevitable (and most likely very quickly approaching) day that Zayn asks Liam to move in and Harry is left without his support in times like these. Maybe when that day comes, Harry will just ask to move in with Louis and Niall. He practically already lives there. They go _grocery shopping_ together. 

He pulls himself back to the present conversation. That’s not what’s important at the moment.

“Okay,” Liam starts, puffing his cheeks before blowing the air out. “I don’t think Louis’, like, doing it on purpose.”

“Doing what-”

“But I think that subconsciously he is so in love with you, that he cannot make himself set you up on a date with someone that you may actually like,” he finishes. “You’re both so fucking gone for each other but neither of you will do anything about it.”

“Okay, I don’t think that’s-”

But Liam continues on, “And like. You ask me if there’s anything wrong with you, and there’s _not_ , but kind of? You’re so in love with him that no relationship is ever going to work out unless it’s _with_ Louis. And it’s the same principle for him. That’s why you’re both so bad at dating. You’re already fucking dating each other.”

“We’re not-”

“I don’t want to hear excuses.”

Harry lifts his head then, thinking Liam’s words over. He can’t deny that there is truth in them, but he doesn’t think it’s _all_ true.

“Can I speak now?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing. Liam nods, gesturing for Harry to go on. “Thanks. Louis is not in love with me. Louis does not have those feelings for me. He would’t agree to help me go on all of these dates if he was in love with me. That’s just not reasonable.”

“I think he’s just as in denial as you are.”

Harry sighs. He wants another glass of wine. “So what do you think I should do about it?”

“I think you should talk to him,” Liam says, like it’s that easy. “If you don’t want to keep getting proposed to in the middle of your dates, then I think you both need to sit down and have a serious conversation about what the fuck is going on. Otherwise, you’ll never know and I don’t think you could be happy not knowing. You say that you’re okay with the way things are, but I think you’re stuck and you could be moving forward with each other.”

Harry doesn’t really know what else to say to that, so he grabs their wine glasses and heads to the kitchen to give them both a refill. While in there, he pulls out his phone and shoots a text to Louis, asking if he wants to meet for breakfast at their diner. The response is an almost instantaneous, a ‘ _yes!_ ’ followed by ‘ _how’d the date go?_ ’ that Harry doesn’t bother answering. He doesn’t really feel like getting into it. Even over text message, Louis is sure to know something’s up, so Harry just sets his alarm for the morning, puts his phone on do not disturb, and spends the rest of the night watching shitty romance movies with Liam.

~*~

  
  


“And he just proposed right in the middle?” Louis asks, coffee cup paused halfway between his mouth and the table. “Like. In front of you?”

Harry finds himself repeating the same story he’d told Liam the night before, right down to the, “Not really the middle. More like the beginning. We hadn’t really gotten started yet.”

“Christ, H. I’m so sorry.” And Louis sounds like he genuinely means it. If he’s as in love with Harry as Liam says he is, wouldn’t he have some sort of air of self-satisfaction? He wouldn’t seem actually upset about Harry’s ruined date if he wanted Harry for himself. Harry knows Louis like the back of his hand, maybe even better, and if Louis was hiding his feelings, he likes to think that he’d know. 

“Yeah, well.” Harry shrugs. “I think I’m going to take a break from dating for a while.”

“Probably for the best.”

They continue sipping their coffee and waiting on their meals, tucked into ‘their’ booth. It’s busy enough for a Saturday, as busy as the little place gets, but there’s still a few empty seats in the place. Harry doesn’t think he’d know what to do if one day they walked in and their booth was taken. If they had to sit anywhere else, he doesn’t think the food would taste as good. 

“Is that Sam?” Louis breaks the silence, looking somewhere over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry doesn’t want to turn around and look. He doesn’t want to draw attention to himself if it is. After being told that Sam just didn’t want to settle down and he was sorry for wasting Harry’s time, he’s not exactly a person high on Harry’s list of people to see. 

“Oh fuck, it is,” Louis clarifies. “Haz, I think he’s seen me. I’m so sorry-”

“Harry?”

Harry hopes that his wince isn’t too obvious, but Louis’ giving him a pitying glance and taking a large gulp from his coffee cup. 

“Oh. Hey.” He forces a smile. Sam’s just standing there, at the edge of their table, hand held tightly in some man’s hand while he smiles brightly. “How’re things?”

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” Sam says, like there isn’t a reason for that. “Remember when we used to come here? Honey, Harry and I used to love this place.”

And that’s -

That’s not true. They came here _once_ and Harry felt so guilty about going without Louis that he never brought Sam, or anyone else, there ever again. Maybe Sam loved this place, but he sure as hell didn’t love it with Harry.

Before he can even retaliate and ask Sam what the fuck he’s even talking about, Sam continues on, “Have you met Alex?”

“No, I don’t think I have.” Harry doesn’t think his smile can get any more tight-lipped. “Nice to meet you.”

Louis still isn’t speaking up, that bastard. Just stays silent and watches the conversation crash and burn with an evil fire in his eyes. 

“You too,” Alex says, but he doesn’t really look like he means it.

Harry doesn’t blame him. If Alex knows who Harry is, this is just awkward, meeting one of your boyfriend’s exes. If he doesn’t know who Harry is, it’s still awkward, if only because of the tension hanging in the air between all of them. Anyone looking in on them can tell that at least two people involved want the conversation to end. 

“Right. Well.” Sam clears his throat. “We’re gonna go eat, but. See you around?”

“Sure,” Harry lies. “Would love that.”

Sam and Alex walk away with another word, and Louis bursts into laughter. Head thrown back against the vinyl of the booth, hands wrapped around the almost empty coffee mug, it really hits Harry how in love he is. He’s not even upset by the run-in with Sam. Instead, he finds it more comical than anything. This probably wouldn’t have been true a year ago, but. A year ago he couldn’t have admitted how in love with his best friend he was.

“Did you ever think you’d see the day Sam Clark was married?” Louis asks, breathless from laughter, eyes crinkled almost shut. “I’m just glad it wasn’t you.”

“Married?” Still laughing, Harry furrows his eyebrows. “Did he say that? I missed it.”

“No.” Louis shakes his head. “I saw the rings.”

“Ah.”

“Are you upset?”

It’s a fair question, Harry thinks. His break-up with Sam had been the start of a whole year of being convinced something was wrong with him, going on disasterous date after date, and having mediocre sex that just left him wanting something more.

“Not even a little,” he answers honestly. 

~*~

Harry had thought that he would tell Louis about his feelings about brunch, but it had felt inappropriate after running into Sam. Then, he’d thought maybe he’d tell Louis while they were unloading the groceries from their weekly shopping trip, but. He’d been distracted by Louis dropping the full carton of eggs they had just brought home.

And every chance he’d gotten after that just seemed wrong. The timing was off, was all. He was going to do it. Promise.

Liam, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure that Harry wasn’t chickening out.

“I’m not chickening out,” he says. He kicks his feet into the air, feeling the blood rush to his head as he hangs upside down off the couch. “I’m just. Waiting for the right time.”

“Whatever you tell yourself.” 

Liam joins him, sliding around on the couch until he’s upside down, next to Harry and looking puzzled. “Why are we hanging upside down?”

Harry does the best shrug he can, given the circumstances. “Helps me think.”

“Ah.”

“I don’t know how to tell him how I feel,” he admits. “But I’m not chickening out. It’s just taking me a little longer to do it.”

“How do you do this for so long?” Liam asks, instead of like, saying something helpful. “I’ve been hanging here for maybe thirty seconds and I’ve already got a headache.”

“I think a key element to it is not having a brain.”

“I’d say you don’t have one of those, yeah,” Liam agrees easily. “When are you hanging out with Louis again?”

“An hour.”

“Is he coming here?”

“No, I’m going there.”

Liam maneuvers his body until he’s sitting upright again, face red and blotchy. “Make him come here.”

“Why?” Harry asks, unamused. His head is finally starting to hurt and he’s thinking about sitting up, but it’s honestly easier to talk to Liam when he’s upside down like this. “So you can eavesdrop?”

“Basically.”

Harry does sit up at that, bolting upright until he’s sitting, legs still thrown over the back of the couch, his core the only thing keeping him up. “No.”

“Well, hear me out,” Liam starts. “Every time you guys are alone you get distracted or you chicken out or whatever it is you do. Here I can like. Come check on you every now and then and see if you’ve done it. Or if you don’t like the idea of me checking in on you, maybe my presence is enough to fucking get you to do it.”

“And if things go poorly I won’t even have to walk home while I’m crying.” Harry kind of sees his point, and slips his phone out of his pocket to text Louis the change of plans. “But make yourself scarce. I think it’ll only be worse if I _know_ you’re here.”

“You’ll know I’m here anyway.”

“Liam, just let me have this.”

“Alright, fine.” Liam holds his hands up in a surrender, palms facing Harry. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Unsure of what to do with his nervous energy, Harry starts cleaning the apartment. It’s never messy, Liam’s probably the cleanest person he knows, but he starts dusting the tops of the cabinets and making sure all the blankets all folded over the back of the couch instead of thrown haphazardly over the arms. 

“Alright, I’m going to my room and I won’t come out for the rest of the night,” Liam announces, taking a stack of papers to grade with him. “Unless I have to pee. All bets are off if I have to pee.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re not _banished_. You can come out and say hi. And get water. Peeing might be too much, though, so.” He shrugs, just barely dodging the gel pen Liam throws in the direction of his head.

“Good luck.” And then Liam’s gone, bedroom door shutting with a soft click, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts while he nervously waits for Louis to arrive.

He doesn’t have to wait too much longer with his thoughts - racing across his mind, fighting to see which one will give him the most anxiety - before Louis is letting himself in the front door with his spare key. He hears the sound of shoes being kicked off in the hallway, followed by socked feet on the hardwood as Louis makes his way into the living room.

“Hey, babe,” he greets Harry, wide smile on his face. “Have you thought about what movie you want to watch?”

“Um, not really,” Harry answers honestly. Movies haven’t been on his mind much. “Can we talk?”

Louis freezes, eyes widening. He gives Harry an unsure smile, tensely coming around to sit on the couch next to him. “Sure. Something wrong?”

“No. Or like. No?”

“Babe, you’re not making any sense,” Louis laughs, but it’s his nervous one, short and high-pitched. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He stretches the word out, and the confusion written all over his face only grows. 

“Like.” Harry takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat, before continuing, “I think I know why things don’t work out for me when I try and date?”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, because they all sucked.”

It’s not a question, but Harry ignores it either way. “No. Because. Um, well. Because I’m in love with you.”

And maybe he should have given a better speech or had some type of build up or something, but. They’ve been building up to this moment _forever_ , he thinks. He’s sick of building up. He just wants Louis to know how he feels and hopefully hear that Louis feels the same and then ride off into the sunset together.

“What?” Louis says instead.

“What do you mean _what_?”

“I mean.” Louis widens his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“What do you mean _am I sure_?”

“Harry, please. Darling. How long have you known?”

“Consciously? Probably about a year,” he answers as honestly as he can. “But I think it’s been forever.”

“And you’re not just saying this? Like you’re not just settling for me? Because I know we’ve joked before-”

“No!” Harry cuts him off, words sharp and leaving no room for uncertainty. “You aren’t settling. Sam was settling. All those dates and one-sided relationships and unsatisfactory nights spent with strangers? That was settling. You? You could never be considered settling.”

If Louis’ eyes go a little watery, Harry won’t make fun of him (right now). Instead, he reaches over and grabs a hold of Louis’ hand, rubbing a thumb over the back of it. He thinks Louis might be shaking, vibrating just under the skin, and Harry feels the same way. Feels like there’s this energy running through him, almost too much to sit still.

“I love you, too,” Louis finally says. “I’ve loved you for a while.”

“Why did you keep setting me up on dates?” 

“I wanted you to be happy. And at first, I was really trying. I didn’t want to see you sad. I didn’t want to see you with all of these shitty men. I think I started realizing maybe I wasn’t being very unbiased when setting you up,” he admits. “And then I realized it wasn’t fair to you to set you up on dates any longer because, even though it wasn’t on purpose, I wasn’t being fair.”

“They were shitty dates,” Harry agrees. He can’t shake the buzzing under his skin. “Can I kiss you?”

Louis’ leaning in before the words are even out of his mouth, fitting their lips together, and suddenly the buzzing becomes managable and ten times more intense all at once. 

He lets his hands roam, one hand sliding up Louis’ arm, just feeling the warm skin there. The other settles on his thigh, squeezing, taking note of the sound it pulls from him. Louis’ hands tangle in Harry’s hair, not pulling, not yet, but gripping and using it to guide Harry in the direction he wants. Their noses bump together as they try and get closer, but somehow it’s not awkward, and Harry can only assume it’s because he’s kissing _Louis_.

Louis takes Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugs lightly, just enough, doing it a few more times, until Harry is sure his bottom lip has to be swollen and red. Eventually, he moves on from Harry’s lips, kissing his way along Harry’s jawline down to his neck, goosebumps following him as he goes. 

“No marks,” Harry warns. As much as he finds them incredibly sexy, he is a guidance counsellor, and he has no desire to wear scarves and turtlenecks for the next week to work. “Visible marks.”

“Got it,” Louis mumbles against his neck, teeth just barely scratching against his skin. “I guess the same rule applies to you.”

Harry’s not sure when he used his grip on Louis to pull him into his lap, but suddenly he’s there, entirely in Harry’s space, attached to his neck and using his hair to tilt his head. He adjusts his grip on Louis, moving his hands to his hips, using this new angle to pull Louis’ body down while he grinds up into him, and the angles not the best, but it’s _something_. A form of relief for both of them that has them breathing harder, just trying to get closer.

“Too many clothes,” Louis says, finally pulling away from Harry’s neck, sliding his hands until he reaches the hem of Harry’s shirt. “Off.”

Harry is already on it before Louis even gets the word out, shirt forgotten somewhere across the living room. He does the same to Louis’ t-shirt, reveling in the feeling of his skin sliding against Louis’ warm body. They’re both starting to sweat already, and it just makes everything filthier.

Louis doesn’t stop the motions of his hips, circling them and grinding down while Harry slides his hands up and down the skin of his back, just barely scratching with his nails. He doesn’t know if he’ll actually be able to handle it once Louis gets his pants off. 

A few more minutes of grinding has Harry panting into Louis’ mouth, begging for him to do something. 

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, but the way he says it makes Harry think he knows the answer to his own question. “Do you want my mouth?”

And _god_. Yes. Harry very much wants that.

He whines, and it’s maybe as close to ‘yes’ as Harry can get out at the current moment, but Louis understands. He unfists his hands from Harry’s hair, but not before giving it one last light tug, and slides down until his knees hit the ground. He wastes no time, unbuttoning Harry’s jeans and shimmying them just enough to get Harry’s cock out.

“Look at you,” he whispers, but Harry’s not sure if it’s meant for him or his cock. He doesn’t bother responding, just arches his back in an effort to get Louis to _do something_. Louis runs his hands over the tops of Harry’s thighs, holding him still. 

Just as Harry’s about to start begging, Louis leans in and sucks at the head of his cock, bringing one hand to hold at the base. He takes his time bobbing his head, slowly, until he reaches his hand and comes back up. He repeats it, a torturous speed, and all Harry can do is tangle one hand in his hair and have the other fist the couch.

There’s something so hot about the way Louis’ cheekbones cave in, eyes closed as he focuses. He starts picking up speed, hand stroking him in time as he bobs his head, twirling his tongue around the head every time he comes up. 

Harry can’t help the way his hips stutter, doesn’t even have time to think about it, Louis choking. When he opens his eyes, they’re wet, but he doesn’t pull off. Harry does it again, gentler this time, and Louis moans. It vibrates the length of his cock, and when Louis gives one last squeeze around the base with his hand, Harry is coming without any warning. Louis swallows it all like a champ, holding eye contact with Harry as he does.

He pulls off just before Harry grows too senstitive, letting his tongue slide along his length and standing up. He climbs back into Harry’s lap and leans in to kiss him, and Harry can taste himself on Louis’ tongue. Second rounds aren’t something he can do as often any more, but he has a feeling that’s about to change with Louis to help him out.

“You were so perfect,” Harry whispers, sliding a hand along Louis’ waistband. “Looked so good for me on your knees.”

Louis’ breathing catches in his throat, eyes darting between Harry’s lips and the hand teasing his waistband. “Gonna give me a reward?”

Harry laughs, because even in the midst of all of this, he can still feel the distinctly _them_ energy. “Patience, love.”

He doesn’t make Louis wait any longer, though, sliding his sweatpants down to his thighs, followed closely by his black briefs. His cock is perfect, and Harry would tease him a little, but he has a feeling Louis would actually murder him if he tried.

He holds out his hand, and Louis seems to understand, even without words, and spits into the palm. Harry starts stroking him slowly, twisting when he comes to the head, squeezing at the base. From the noises Louis is making, he’s not going to last long, whining in Harry’s ear, getting higher pitched with every stroke.

“Harry, I’m gonna-” He doesn’t even finish the sentence, spurting into Harry’s hand, bucking his hips, mouth open in a silent moan. He squeezes his eyes shut and exposes his throat, and Harry has to resist the urge to lean in and leave a mark.

He works Louis through it before reaching for the box of tissues they keep on the coffee table. He carefully wipes them both down, tucking Louis back into his pants. 

After a moment where all he does is pant hotly against Harry’s neck, Louis sits up and rolls off of Harry’s lap.

“Thank you,” he says. “We should have been doing stuff like that for years.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “We can make up for lost time, though.”

“Speaking of,” Louis starts. “I have a question.”

“Hmm?”

“I know you’ve got a really bad track record, but would you like to go on a date with me?”

Harry can’t stop the smile that breaks across his face. “I don’t know. I’ve kind of put off dating for a while, I think. But maybe I can be convinced?”

Louis starts to lean in, stopping just inches away from Harry’s face. His breath blows hotly across Harry’s face as he whispers, “I think I know of a few ways.”

A second round is _definitely_ possible with Louis around.

~*~

“Do I look okay?”

“This is the fourth time you’ve asked me and you’ve changed nothing about yourself,” Liam says. He rolls his eyes and slaps Harry’s hands away when they reach to mess with his hair again. “Louis already loves you. Why are you so worried?”

“I’m worried because I have a shitty track record with dating,” Harry answers. “I mean, my date was proposed to during my last one.”

“It’s not the same.”

“How is this not the same?” Harry’s being ridiculous and overdramatic, but it’s the only way he can keep himself from going insane. He’s going on a date with _Louis_.

“Well, for starters, you and Louis are in love with each other. And you’ve basically been dating as long as I’ve known you anyway. This literally does not change anything. Except now you guys can have sex after dinner.”

Harry wants to protest, but. He’s not wrong.

“I think you may be on to something,” Harry gives him. “And as much as I’d like to stand here and work myself into an anxious mess while you watch for the rest of the night, if I don’t leave now then I will be late for our first date.”

“Good luck,” Liam says, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “I’ll be at Zayn’s tonight.”

Harry waggles his eyebrows. “Good to know.”

Louis had specifically requested that Harry meet him at their favorite diner at eight o’ clock. Harry had expected him to be late, but he’s there already, tucked into their corner booth and tapping his fingers against the table. He’s staring intensely at the second page of the menu, a telltale sign that he’s just doing anything to distract himself. 

“Waiting for someone?” he asks, sliding into the vinyl seat opposite of Louis. 

“Hmm, no actually.” Louis’ smile is blinding, threatening to split his cheeks, lines set deeply near the corners of his eyes. “Just the man I was looking for.”

Shawn crosses the room to drop off their mugs off coffee, clarifying that they want their regular orders, before turning to leave. He pauses, halfway turned towards the grill. “What are you guys doing here so late? You’re normally never here past lunchtime. And dressed so nicely?”

Harry bites his lip, willing the corners of his cheeks to keep from pulling upwards. 

“We’re on our first date, dearest Shawn,” Louis announces proudly.

Shawn recoils like he’s been slapped. “What?”

“We finally got our shit together,” Harry explains. “So. We’re going on our first date. We decided to go somewhere casual that we knew we would both like. Keep it safe and all that.”

“You mean-” Shawn stops himself and shakes his head. “You guys haven’t been dating this whole time?”

“Nope.” Louis pops the ‘p’ and throws him a shit-eating grin. 

Shawn doesn’t respond, just shakes his head and walks toward the grill, hopefully to put their orders in and not just to gossip about the surprising news.

The rest of the date goes just like any other time they’ve hung out. Louis knocks over his coffee mug, Harry chokes on a piece of toast, and they fight over who’s going to pay the bill. Harry decides it’s his turn, since Louis paid for their Chinese food last time, but Louis only compromises with the promise that he’s allowed to pay for dessert.

“Are you going to walk me home?” Harry asks once they're outside, batting his eyelashes, hoping to portray a picture of innocence. 

“Yeah, but no funny business,” Louis says, as sternly as he can when he’s holding back a laugh.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Their clasped hands swing between them on the short walk to Harry’s apartment, and it’s the only thing different than when they normally do this. Louis embellishes his stories and Harry complains about the college essays and it’s so distinctly _them_ that he can’t believe they haven’t been doing this since the beginning.

The lights in Harry’s apartment are off when he unlocks the door, proof that Liam is long gone. Louis follows him inside, and Harry spins around with a teasing grin on his face.

“Who invited you inside?” 

“I did,” Louis answers simply. 

“I’m not that kind of man.”

Louis snorts. “I think you’re exactly that kind of man.”

Harry allows himself to be pushed against the wall. “I think you’re right.”

Louis presses a tender kiss to his jaw, a contrast to the way his hands are urgently undoing Harry’s belt. 

“I’m sorry anyone ever made you feel unlovable,” he whispers, and in the dark Harry can’t exactly read his expression, but the words make his knees go weak. “My goal is to make sure you never feel that way again.”

Harry believes him. Harry extra believes him when he unbuttons their jeans, reaching in and pulling out their cocks. He takes them both into one hand, just barely, working them over slowly. Harry hisses, the drag almost too much, the heat of Louis’ cock pressed against him definitely too much.

“It’s working,” Harry manages to choke out, head thrown back against the wall. 

It doesn’t take very long for either of them to spill over Louis’ hand, out of breath in the hallway, just barely past Harry’s front door. 

“We’ve still yet to make it to a bed,” Harry observes. He leans his head back against the wall. He wants to slip to the floor and catch his breath, but Louis doesn’t seem to want the same thing.

“We can change that. Right now,” he says. “Meet you in your bedroom. Lose the clothing.”

He takes off in the direction of Harry’s bedroom without waiting for a response, and Harry is left behind, staring at him in amazement. 

He starts to shed himself of his clothing, dropping his shirt somewhere between the living room and the bathroom. He loses his pants and briefs outside of his bedroom door, and he can see that Louis’ done the same. 

Louis lays in the middle of his bed, running his hands over his body, and Harry waits in the doorway just to watch him for a few more seconds. When Louis throws a pillow at him and tells him to stop just standing around, Harry doesn’t think he’d change it for anything. He’d go on a million bad dates if it meant Louis still ended up in his bed.

Harry _loves_ this man.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed, didn't enjoy, just want a friend - feel free to reach out on [tumblr!](https://adoredontour.tumblr.com)  
> [fic post](https://adoredontour.tumblr.com/post/614935686691323904/sip-it-slowly-and-pay-attention-13k-so-ive-got)  
> 


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